


A Certain Vulnerability

by AreYouReady



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: F/M, In Vino And Telepathy Veritas, M/M, Messy Feelings, Multi, Slow Dancing, sort of pre-slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 18:39:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11258661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AreYouReady/pseuds/AreYouReady
Summary: Quark makes Lwaxana a Margarita.Odo makes an arrest.





	A Certain Vulnerability

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EldritchTribble](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldritchTribble/gifts).



> YOOOOOOOO El-T, if you're still out there, I'm sorry this is so late. Written for trek rarepair swap.

“You call this wine? It’s barely stronger than clixaberry juice.” Quark winced at the volume of the familiar brassy voice, almost a physical blow coming from behind him. He would swear the noise shook the flutes of green Risian champagne on his serving tray. He was grateful for the business catering Federation diplomatic events brought him, but politicians and diplomats could be worse than his usual crowd. At least he could talk back to _them_ without getting the eye from Captain Sisko.

“Madame Ambassador,” he began, turned around, only to see Lwaxana Troi swaying slightly as she fished around in her plunging neckline. “How may I be of-” He stopped when the slip of latinum she had retrieved from between her breasts bounced off his forehead. He suppressed a shudder at the sudden warmth in his lobes, and it took a moment before he registered her next words.

“Mix me a double strength Kyrimarian margarita.”

From the unsteady look of her steps, she didn’t need it, but she was now a paying customer, unlike the others. Hopefully the rest wouldn’t come demanding off-menu drinks once they saw hers. He doubted they had the latinum to pay.

He passed off his tray to another server, and made his way to the temporary bar he’d set up, Lwaxana wobbling behind. He took the Human Tequila, Aldebran spikefruit liqueur, Explosive Salt, and Three Deaths Sauce out from beneath the bar. As he rimmed the glass, he followed the direction of Lwaxana’s eyes, as she stared into the crowd.

On the other end of her gaze was Major Kira. The Major’s head was thrown back; she was laughing at some joke told by Shakaar. The scene was frozen, a tableau of joy. Shakaar’s hand was on her waist. She was holding a flute of the same green Risian champagne Quark had been serving earlier.

“She is beautiful, isn’t she.” It wasn’t a question. Lwaxana wasn’t looking at Quark, so she couldn’t see him nod. He did anyway. Let no one call him dishonest. He watched Lwaxana’s wistful silence for a long time, letting her feel the emotion of the moment for him as he poured her drink.

When he set the glass on the counter for the final time, the spell was broken. She turned back to him, a false Federation smile on her painted lips, and snatched at the margarita, missing it on the first try. As he watched in horror, she downed in three gulps a drink that was meant to take a half hour’s savoring. The salt had barely begun to crackle before she was finished.

She replaced the glass on the counter, squared herself, and spoke:

“Now, dance with me, Ferengi.”

Quark was taken aback. He’d never been asked to dance by… well, anyone, except Natima, once, and they had quickly established that both of his feet were far too left for the sort of the Cardassian folk dances she enjoyed.

He had never even tried the ancient Terran style that was traditional at these events. But it was simple, and he hadn’t been close to a female in so many months it would soon turn into years. Even if this female was Madame Troi.

He didn’t lead, instead resting his head against her bosom, letting the curve of his ear rub gently against the ruffled pink satin on the shoulder of her dress. The stimulation made his feet unsteady as they tracked hers, and he hoped that whatever dancing prowess she had was strong enough to override the alcohol in her system. Her naked skin was dry against his cheek.

The room around them was so very empty. Oh, it contained a crowd, certainly, a healthily sized one at that. But it was empty of the one they were both thinking of, in the flickering light of the simulated candles.

If Odo was here, his attention would be on Major Kira. If Odo was here he would be shooting wistful glances in her direction, interspersed with the occasional jealous glare at Shakaar. If Odo was here, was gazing at Kira, he wouldn’t feel the eyes on the back of his neck.

He wouldn’t feel either set of them.

_She was beautiful, wasn’t she?_

Quark buried his face in Lwaxana’s chest, and continued to sway.

-

Odo’s skin prickled. Or rather, that’s how he’d heard the sensation he assumed was analogous described by solids. For him it was more like the feeling of little whirlpools on his back. He felt that something was off. More than that, there was something almost tangible, nipping at the edges of his awareness. A telepathic tingle.

The experience of being around telepaths was strange in itself; the feeling of being surrounded by living air, thrumming with personhood, almost as though he was in the Link, but… not quite. The thin selves of individual telepaths could never truly compete with the rich sharing of his own people. But, in their absence? It was a balm on a wound he was rarely aware of. He had relaxed into it almost unconsciously, feeling his surface lose just a touch of its integrity. Not enough for it to ripple with passing drafts, but enough for him to feel it move almost of its own accord.

But now… there was attention on him, within that warm surroundedness. He was being singled out as an individual, and could no longer relax. He was not part of a Link. He was simply a single Changeling, listening, no, _feeling_ in on the telepathic emanations of others.

And some of those emanations were about him. And they were intoxicated.

-

Three floors down, in an empty corridor, he found them. Lwaxana Troi… and Quark. Madame Troi was giggling, falling over herself, and trying to lean on Quark’s shoulder. Quark was doing his best to support her, a strangely chivalrous gesture, but he seemed to have been sampling his own wares, and fairly heavily.

“Odo!” he slurred, grinning, “we missed you at the party!”

Lwaxana planted a huge, smacking kiss on Quark’s ear, before adding: “The place needed a bit of eye-candy, it was so dull!”

Odo watched in some disgust as Lwaxana began to overbalance, and Quark righted her by taking firm grasp of her bosom. They both laughed.

Odo felt Lwaxana’s thoughts crawl over him, a mix of jealousy, sadness, and desire, all filtered through the wavery lens of intoxication. But not just her thoughts. They carried with them the impression of another’s, a near echo of the same emotions, but given a different flavor.

“You’re both under arrest, for disorderly conduct.” He told them stiffly, hiding his own discomfort. Perhaps Madame Troi’s emotions were simply infectious. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I can always count on you, Odo,” slurred Quark, seeming almost happy to be taken in. When Odo touched Quark’s wrist with a shapeshifted handcuff, his already softened and receptive surface could not help but give him confirmation of what he’d felt before from Lwaxana. “I love that about you, you know? I can always count on you.”

It was absolutely true.


End file.
